Mott, surrounded by their friends, sat listening to the angry cries
of threatening men outside, it happened that in the crowd was a young
man friendly to the Mott family. He cried, "On to the Motts'!" and
purposely ran up the wrong street. The rioters followed him blindly,
and the Motts were a second time saved from violence.
Women who had formerly been Mrs. Mott's friends passed her on the
street without speaking, and scornful people laughed at her. Sometimes
rough men, carried away by the excitement of the times, surged round
her like maniacs, threatening violence, but Mrs. Mott never lost her
temper or her composed manner. In her own story of her life she says,
"The misrepresentation, ridicule and abuse heaped upon these reforms do
not in the least deter me from my duty."
When the National Anti-Slavery Society was formed, Mrs. Mott took a
prominent part, offering suggestions with "such charm and precision
that they were readily assented to." In this work she was associated
with Garrison, Whittier, and other noted Abolitionists.
In 1840, Mrs. Mott was sent to London to represent the Abolitionists
of the United States at the World's Anti-Slavery Convention, where she
met Elizabeth Cady Stanton, also a delegate. They were not permitted to
take their places in the Convention, for by a vote taken at their first
sitting, that body decided that only men were to be admitted. Aside
from this, however, the women were treated with the greatest courtesy.
But, though their feelings were supposed to be salved by being given
seats of honor in the hall, they felt keenly the humiliation of their
position. It was certainly an indignity.
Mrs. Mott had for years been accustomed to speaking in public, people
of all denominations coming many miles to hear the great Quaker
preacher. Her home had been a refuge for hunted slaves, and all her
eloquence was devoted to the cause of their freedom. Without doubt, she
was one of the most prominent persons present at this meeting. She, if
anyone, should have been allowed to speak in behalf of humanity.
Out of the indignation aroused on this occasion in the minds of Mrs.
Mott and Mrs. Stanton, grew the Woman Suffrage Movement. The first
Woman's Rights Convention was called in Seneca Falls, New York, July,
1848, the rights of women to the ballot and their equality with man
under the law being the subjects discussed.
James Mott approved of his wife's course and assisted her all that he
could by presiding at the first meeting. No end of ridicule was heaped
upon the women who thus openly claimed equal rights with men, but Mrs.
Mott argued her cause so politely and so wittily that her opponents
were disarmed. It is a pleasure to know that Lucretia Mott lived to
see the slaves freed and to note the change of public opinion toward
herself and others who had worked for freedom.
When Mrs. Mott was seventy-five and her husband eighty years of age,
they went to Brooklyn to visit their grandchildren. While there, Mr.
Mott was taken ill with pneumonia and passed away quietly while his
wife was sleeping on the pillow beside him. Colored men bore him to
his grave, at their own request, to show their regard for one who had
worked so persistently to benefit their race. The Motts' married life
had been one of great happiness, not the slightest shadow having ever
come between them. One who knew them well said, "Theirs was the most
perfect wedded life to be found on earth."
Mrs. Mott was greatly solaced to know that her opponents had changed
their opinions in respect to her. During the latter part of her life,
it was no unusual thing for a stranger to stop her in the street and
ask the privilege of shaking hands. Once a woman in mourning passed
quickly by her, whispering, "God bless you, Lucretia Mott."
Each Christmas Day she visited the Colored Home in Philadelphia,
carrying turkeys and pies and personal gifts to every inmate. She also
sent a box of candy to every conductor and brakeman on the railroad on
which she traveled, saying: "They never let me lift out my bundles,
and they all seem to know me!" The number of children, both black and
white, named after her, was astonishing.
At the Centennial Anniversary of the Old Pennsylvania Abolition
Society, Lucretia Mott was greeted by the vast audience with cheers and
waving of handkerchiefs and hats. Another ovation occurred at a July
Fourth meeting of the National Woman Suffrage Association. When she
rose to speak some-one called to her, "Go up into the pulpit!" As she
ascended the pulpit steps, all sang, "Nearer, my God, to Thee!"
Mrs. Mott lived twelve years after her husband's death; then she too
passed away, on November 11, 1880, at the age of eighty-seven.
All women have cause to remember her with affection, for she braved
public opinion to secure recognition for them.
[Illustration: MARY LYON]
MARY LYON
(1797-1849)
"Human kind is but one family. The education of its youth should be
equal and universal."
—_Frances Wright D'Arusmont_
To-day if a girl wishes to obtain an education equal to that of a man,
the doors of many colleges and other institutions of learning are open
to her. It is not so many years ago that this was not the case. Most
people, then, thought that girls had no need for a knowledge of the
higher branches, and it is largely owing to Mary Lyon that the young
women of to-day have such splendid advantages for education.
Born in Buckland, in Western Massachusetts, February 28, 1797, Mary
began life, poor and obscure. She was the fifth of a family of seven
children, and her early life was one of hard work and of meager
opportunity.
Yet it was not unhappy. Her mountain home was well kept, and her
parents governed entirely by kindness, insisting upon gentle words,
pleasant looks and thoughtfulness for others, on the part of all the
children. Out of doors all was beautiful. The mountains, the rocks
and streams, the fine trees which surrounded the house,—all gave the
child much pleasure. To Mary it seemed as though the peaches and the
strawberries raised on their own little farm were larger and more
delicious than any others. Her parents had a wonderful faculty for
making things grow, and the neighbors said that the plants in Mrs.
Lyon's dooryard always bloomed more luxuriantly than any others in the
neighborhood.
When Mary was four years old her father died, but her mother, with the
help of a hired man, continued the work of the farm and succeeded in
supporting her family. Mary, as she grew up, did much of the housework
and the spinning. In those days, nearly every family spun the thread to
weave the cloth for their own garments, and by the time she was twelve
years old, Mary had become expert at this work.
At the age of seven, Mary walked two miles to school. She delighted in
her studies and made such rapid progress that visitors to the school
were astonished. Finally, the district school moved still farther away,
and then Mary went to Ashfield to study, living there during school
months and doing housework to pay for her board.
Every spare moment was spent over her books and, when she was twelve
years old, Mary Lyon determined to become a teacher. None of the other
girls in the school had any definite purpose as to the future. The boys
planned to become carpenters, farmers, teachers, lawyers, or ministers,
but girls were supposed to become wives, mothers and housekeepers, for
which offices no special training was thought necessary. Since that
time, fortunately for the race, public opinion has changed in this
respect; to-day, everybody knows that in order to manage a household
well, to rear children, and to make a happy home, girls need to have a
great deal of knowledge.
When Mary Lyon announced her intention of being a teacher, the
community was astonished, not to say shocked. It was predicted that she
would fail. Men, not women, were meant for the teaching profession!
Mary's proficiency in her studies, however, could not be denied. Early
and late she pored over her books; in four days, to the amazement of
her teacher, she learned all of Alexander's Grammar and recited it
perfectly. When she was thirteen, her mother married again and went to
live in Ohio, but Mary remained on the farm and kept house for her only
brother. He paid her one dollar a week—a large sum for a girl to earn
in the year 1810.
For a while it looked as though her high ambitions would never be
realized, but the brave girl did not know the word despair. She studied
all she could and read every book she could lay her hands upon. After
five years spent in this way her brother married and went away, leaving
his sister free to do as she pleased.
Thus thrown entirely upon her own resources, Mary began her career as a
teacher in Shelburne Falls. Seventy-five cents a week and board made up
her munificent salary. By dint of spinning and weaving for some of the
neighbors, she earned a little more. Luckily, she did not care for fine
clothes or trinkets, so that at the age of twenty she had saved enough
money to enable her to spend a term at Sanderson Academy at Ashfield.
This was her great opportunity and she improved it well, making a real
sensation in the school by her brilliancy. They say that when Mary Lyon
stood up to recite, her class-mates laid aside their tasks to listen to
her.
The term over, Mary planned to go back to teaching, for she had no
money to continue her studies. It so happened that some of the trustees
of the Academy, hearing of her unusual scholarship, offered her another
term, tuition free. Mary thankfully accepted this favor, and doubtless,
had wonderful dreams of the use she might make of all her knowledge
when she should get it. But, first, she must plan some way to pay her
board while studying. Among her possessions were some bedding, some
table linen, and a few other household articles. These she succeeded
in exchanging at a boarding house for a room and a seat at table. Her
companions in the boarding house told of her that she slept but four
hours, spending all the remainder of her time at her books.
But though she had now reached a point in scholarship where she could
easily hold a position as teacher, Mary Lyon by no means considered her
education completed. All her vacations were spent in the study of some
branch in which she found herself deficient. She spent some time in the
family of the Reverend Edward Hitchcock, afterward President of Amherst
College, with whom she studied natural science, at the same time taking
lessons in drawing and painting from his wife.
In 1821, at the age of twenty-four, Mary had saved enough money to
enable her to enter the school of Reverend Joseph Emerson at Byfield.
Her friends were strongly opposed to her going, telling her that she
knew enough already; that, as she would never be a minister, it was
unnecessary for her to study more. But Mary had other ideas, and could
not be diverted from her purpose.
Mr. Emerson was a broad-minded man of very advanced notions for his
day and generation. He actually believed that women could understand
philosophical subjects as well as men and that, if their minds demanded
good solid food, they ought to have it! His wife was a woman of much
ability, and together they discussed questions of science and religion
with their pupils.
It was undoubtedly these discussions that turned Mary Lyon's mind and
thoughts to spiritual things. Heretofore, she had been so absorbed in
her passion for general knowledge that the matter of religion had never
touched her. Suddenly the fact burst upon her that all things in this
life were useless and unsatisfying, except as they were used in helping
humanity. From this time on, her work of teaching seemed little short
of inspired.
When, later, an assistant was wanted at Sanderson Academy,
notwithstanding the opposition of many who believed that a man should
fill the place, Mary Lyon was selected for the position. Before long
one of her former teachers, Miss F. P. Grant, sent for her to fill a
higher position at Derry, New Hampshire. Mary delayed going in order to
take some lessons in chemistry from Professor Eaton of Amherst.
The school in Derry numbered ninety pupils. It was held only during
the summer months, and during the winter Mary again taught at Ashfield
and Bucklands. She charged twenty-five cents a week for tuition, the
scholars boarding with families in the vicinity, at the rate of $1.25
weekly. Meanwhile Miss Grant, who had removed to Ipswich, induced Miss
Lyon to join her there. Together they conducted the Ipswich Academy,
and together they worked out their ideas of what a school should be.
During these years of teaching, Mary Lyon's heart had been full of
sympathy for girls who desired an education but could not obtain it.
There were no scholarships offered in those days and the doors of men's
colleges were closed to women. At Ipswich, Mary found it impossible
to conduct a good school on the income derived from the fees of the
pupils. So she tried to interest wealthy men, ministers, and college
presidents in her plan of forming a high-grade school or college for
women, asking those who were able, to donate a sum of money for the
purpose.
Most of these men refused to aid her in the project, repeating the
old story that "girls had no need for a knowledge of science or the
classics; that, in fact, they were unfitted for studying advanced
branches." Miss Lyon held a quite different view, and stuck to her
purpose through every discouragement.
Yet, sometimes even brave Mary Lyon had moments of despondency, when
she would weep bitterly over her failure to interest others in her
plans. But the idea of giving up the work never crossed her mind. She
often said to her pupils, "If you feel depressed, think of others, not
of yourself!"
About this time she refused a good offer of marriage, saying that her
life was devoted to one purpose and that she must give herself entirely
to her work. She prayed, and begged her mother to pray, for success.
Over and over again she would say: "Commit thy way unto the Lord. He
will keep thee. Women _must_ be educated. They _must_ be!"
At last her faith turned to a faint hope. People began to be
interested, and she now gave all her time to the work of soliciting
funds. It was her desire to raise the first thousand dollars from
women, and this she succeeded in doing in two months' time. Dr.
Hitchcock, always her staunch friend, aided her with his support and
approval, and one by one broad-minded, noble men lent their assistance,
until the Female Seminary was an assured thing.
On October 3, 1836, the corner stone of Mount Holyoke Seminary was
laid at South Hadley, Massachusetts. Mary Lyon in writing to a friend
of the occasion said: "I have indeed lived to see the time when a body
of gentlemen has ventured to lay the corner stone of an edifice, which
will cost $15,000 and which will be an institution for the education of
females. This will be an era in female education."
In about one year the Seminary was opened to pupils. Since its
advantages were intended chiefly to benefit poor girls, the charges
were placed at the low figure of sixty dollars a year for board and
tuition. There were accommodations for eighty pupils, but one hundred
and sixteen attended the first year!
In order to lessen expenses, as well as to insure good health and to
teach domestic science, all the household work was done by the pupils.
Moreover, if it could be shown that the graduates of the Seminary
had acquired a knowledge of household matters together with their
classical and scientific studies, the prejudice which existed against
education for girls might be lessened.
Miss Lyon received a salary of two hundred dollars a year, and her
teachers received from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars
each. Catherine Beecher once took Mary Lyon to task for the small
salaries paid her teachers. Miss Lyon replied, "In a list of motives
for teaching, I should first place the great motive, 'Love thy neighbor
as thyself'." She aimed to employ only such teachers as would work as
she did—for the benefit of humanity. Her own best reward was the love
which her pupils manifested for her, and the respect with which they
treated her.
She never had any trouble with discipline because she never required
anything of the students but compliance with the ordinary rules of
lady-like behavior, consideration for others, and attention to their
studies. They were expected to do right, or to go away. The fact is
that none but earnest workers sought to enter Mount Holyoke.
After twelve years as Principal of Mount Holyoke Seminary, Miss Lyon
died, March 5, 1849, and was buried in the Seminary grounds. Over her
grave is a beautiful monument of white Italian marble bearing the
memorable sentence she uttered when giving her last instruction to her
scholars:
"There is nothing in the world I fear, but that I shall not know all my
duty or shall fail to do it!"
To her was due one of the greatest revolutions in the history of our
country. She reversed the prevailing opinion of the men of that time
regarding female education, and was the grand pioneer in a movement
which has gone steadily forward ever since.
To-day the property of Mount Holyoke is worth $3,000,000. Thousands of
girls have been educated there, many of whom have become missionaries
and teachers. Many others have married, their education enabling them
to be better wives and mothers, and to do their full duty in any
station in life to which they may be called.
[Illustration: DOROTHEA DIX]
DOROTHEA DIX
(1802-1887)
"Great women belong to history and to self-sacrifice."
—_Leigh Hunt_
Dorothea Dix has been called "the most useful and distinguished woman
America has yet produced." Let us follow the events of her life and
decide for ourselves whether this statement is true.
Dorothea Lynde Dix was born April 4, 1802, at Hampden, Maine. Her
father, Joseph Dix, was a man of unstable character and of a most
singular mental make-up. In fact, he was regarded as almost insane on
religious questions. He wandered about from place to place writing
and publishing tracts, spending in this way the little money he had,
without regard to the needs of his family. His wife and children were
required to assist in the stitching and pasting of the tracts, a
tiresome work which brought them no return.
At twelve years of age Dorothea rebelled against this labor. She wished
to attend school, but there was little chance for her to study while
she lived with her father. So she ran away from Worcester, where the
family then lived, and went to Boston, the home of her grandmother,
Mrs. Dorothea Lynde Dix.
Mrs. Dix received the girl as kindly as her nature would permit. But
she was a stern woman, with very strict ideas of training children,
and every piece of work done for her had to be perfectly performed or
severe punishment followed.
Once, when little Dorothea had failed to accomplish a task as well
as her grandmother thought she should, she was compelled to spend a
whole week alone without speaking to anyone. This sounds cruel, but
Dorothea's grandmother wished to make the child careful and painstaking.
Poor little Dorothea! She said in after years that she "never knew
childhood." But she submitted to her grandmother's sternness rather
than return to her father and the wandering, useless life he led. She
had always in mind the day when she would be able to support herself
and help her younger brothers. So she studied diligently, and being
clever, made great progress. When she was fourteen, she returned to
Worcester, where she opened a small school for young children. In order
to look old enough for a teacher, she lengthened the skirts of her
dresses and arranged her hair grown-woman fashion.
The school succeeded, for Dorothea, though always kind and gentle, was
a strict disciplinarian. The year following, she returned to Boston and
studied to fit herself for more advanced work in teaching. In 1821,
when she was nineteen years of age, she opened a day and boarding
school in that city, in a house belonging to her grandmother. Here she
received pupils from the best families in Boston and the neighboring
towns, and was able to send for her brothers and educate them, while
supporting herself. Dorothea's sympathies, meanwhile, were drawn to the
poor children about her, who had no means of obtaining an education
because their parents could not afford to pay the tuition. She put the
matter before her austere grandmother, and begged for the use of a loft
over the stable for a school room for these children. The little "barn
school" was the beginning of a movement that grew, and later resulted
in the Warren Street Chapel.
You may imagine how happy Dorothea Dix was now,—to be self-supporting
and to be helping others to become so! She managed the two schools,
had the care of her two brothers, and took entire charge of her
grandmother's home. For Mrs. Dix had learned to admire and trust the
granddaughter whom she had once found so careless.
This amount of work would completely fill the lives of most people, yet
Dorothea found time to prepare a text-book upon _Common Things_. Sixty
editions of the book were printed and sold. It was followed by two
others: _Hymns for Children_ and _Evening Hours_.
In order to do all this work, she arose early and sat up late into the
night. Naturally her health failed under such a strain. After six years
she gave up her schools, and took a position as governess in a family
living at Portsmouth, Rhode Island. Here she lived much in the open
air, and her great desire for universal knowledge led her to make a
special study of botany and marine life.
Her health failing again, she visited Philadelphia, and then went South
as far as Alexandria, Virginia, writing short stories the while to
support herself. The winter of 1830 she spent in the West Indies with
the family of Dr. Channing. There she at last regained her health.
The following spring, Miss Dix returned to Boston, and reopened her
school in the old Dix homestead. Pupils flocked to her, and for five
years the work flourished. Her influence over her pupils was wonderful.
They thought her very beautiful, as indeed she was. Mrs. Livermore
writes of her: "Miss Dix was slight and delicate in appearance. She
must have been beautiful in her youth and was still very sweet looking,
with a soft voice, graceful figure and winning manners."
In 1836, ill health obliged her to close her school once more. This
time she went to England. Though only thirty-four, she had saved enough
money to enable her to live in comfort without labor. Shortly after,
her grandmother died, leaving her enough to carry out the plans for
helping others, which had become a part of her life. She then returned
from England and made her home in Washington.
In 1841, however, we find her again in Boston and at this time her real
life work began. It happened that a minister well known to Miss Dix
had charge of a Sunday school in the East Cambridge jail. He needed a
teacher to take charge of a class of twenty women, and asked Miss Dix
if she could tell him of any suitable person.
Miss Dix thought the matter over and then said, "I will take the class
myself!"
Her friends objected because of her frail health, but having once
arrived at a decision, Dorothea Dix never changed her mind. As one of
her pupils said, "Fixed as fate, we considered her!"
The following Sunday, after the session was over, she went into the
jail and talked with many of the prisoners. It seemed that they had
many righteous grievances, one being that no heat of any kind was
provided for their cells.
When Miss Dix asked the keeper of the jail to heat the rooms, he
replied that the prisoners did not need heat, and that besides, stoves
would be unsafe. Though she begged him to do something to make the
cells more comfortable, he refused. She then brought the case before
the Court in East Cambridge. The Court granted her request and heat was
furnished the prisoners.